The Darkness Inside
by TheElvenGhoul
Summary: The mysterious Angel appears to Christine one night, sweeping away everything she thought she knew. An exploration of the emotions of Christine as she is enveloped in Erik's presence. One-shot. Special Thanks To: TheFlyingGraysons4everFall


Christine was astonished at the sight in front of her. There, in the mirror, just as promised, stood her angel. He stood dressed in all black, with the only other color being that of his white mask that covered half of his handsome face. Her face scrunched up with happiness. "Angel?"

"It is I, child," he spoke in his soothing baritone voice, the sound washing over her in a wave of relief as her pale face evened out to hold a more peaceful expression.  
Erik gazed at the woman before him, her soft face like a beacon of light against the dark curls of her hair. He beckoned slowly with one gloved hand, leather crinkling as he murmured enticingly sweet, "I am  
your Angel of Music. Come to me."

Christine readily followed the deep soothing voice of her angel. She would follow him anywhere. He had been her solace after the death of her father. He taught her everything; and that meant that she owed him everything. He was everything that she imagined an angel to look like. Shrouded in mystery, and more beautiful than even Raoul, who had held her heart for so long. But most of all it was his voice, his soothing, dulcet tones befit of a celestial being.

Her heart followed the swells and dips in his voice, bringing her from places of elated happiness to crushing anger that mellowed into a drowning sadness. She followed him, unwavering, on soft feet, wonder in her eyes as she gazed at the cloaked back of this otherworldly creature. Who was he, this Angel that haunted her dreams and filled her with emotions she had never before known? Who was he, this beautiful image of darkness?  
Erik's fierce gaze landed on her and she felt a shiver run down her spine as he turned his eyes to look ahead once more, a strange excitement coursing through her veins as they advanced into the depths of the theater.

The cold and damp surrounding them didn't register to the utterly entranced ballerina as she continued to walk behind her personal Angel. Though she knew she was no stumbling fool she somehow felt like one behind the graceful stride of the man in front of her. She didn't even realize how far they'd gone until he was helping her into a small boat. His gloved hand in hers gave her a shiver that she couldn't place.

She stepped carefully into the slowly tipping boat, several glowing candles lighting the space around them. The walls were a dark stone with golden sconces embedded in them every few feet and the smooth ground flowed evenly into a black river. She had no idea such a place existed beneath her longtime home: a fitting location for someone as mysterious as the man who led her.  
The boat split the ebony water smoothly as waves splashed gently against its wooden sides. Still her Angel looked ahead as if he was too scared to glance behind and find Christine gone.

She looked around in wonder and felt no fear of her surroundings, including her Angel. He'd never hurt her before, and she doubted very much that he would purposefully do it in the future. She trusted in him, and found that his dark surroundings filled her with an unidentifiable emotion. It swelled and bubbled in her chest in the most pleasant way. In the light of the sun she felt warmth and safety; yet she preferred the dangerous and full feeling of the darkness. Once they reached a more lighted area, she saw he had created a beautiful place of both gentle light and deep shadows. She loved it and wondered if she would want to go back, should she be given the choice.

The boat came to gradual stop, bumping lightly against the stone shore as the Phantom enfolded Christine's bare hand in his leather-clad one, guiding her safely over the black water and onto the shore. Her eyes drank up her surroundings slowly: red velvet coverings with dripping candles placed haphazardly about; paintings and poetry littered around the fearsome organ that stood proudly in one corner, tables covered completely music, and a shell-like bed draped with black lace that sat in a more secluded area.  
His hand felt warm, no hot, even through the leather coverings and he removed it all too soon, leaping ahead of her to stand on some shallow steps, removing his cloak with one billowing sweep of raven-black.  
"I have brought you to my home, where music is born in darkness, and daylight succumbs to night" he spread his arms wide as Christine continued to look on, completely entranced.

His voice pulled her under once more, giving her a dose of euphoria that she had never experienced before tonight. It was as if they were not speaking through mortal flesh, but their very souls were clashing and connecting; tying them together for eternity. It was almost awesome in its power over her heart, which continually wavered between the light that Raoul offered and the dark pleasures that awaited her with her Angel of Music until all thoughts of her previous infatuation were swept away with the loud boom of his proclaiming and enrapturing voice. She knew now only him and his voice, his deep, jaded eyes that called to her as no other had before. She was lost to him now and forever.

She clutched at her white dress, her colorless knuckles the only sign of the turmoil going in inside her as darkness ferociously conquered light. She took a few steps forward, adding her high, soft voice to his rumbling tones as their voices flirted and danced with each other creating a song that was no one else's to hear.  
Erik's voice grew more desperate as his eyes penetrated through the young woman before him, her milk-white chest rising and falling in the ecstasy of their song. He could tell from her half-lidded eyes that she was beyond the world of light and happiness, she had entered into the realm of tender night.

Christine panted with exertion once they finished their song. It still hung in the thick air. Tension between them sweltered to new heights. She began to doubt that he was an angel, though only of a certain kind. With the way he made her feel she knew it was impossible that he was only a man. Despite her internal protest, her lids began to droop and the vision in front of her seemed to notice. He bent to sweep his arm behind her knees and one on her back and his graceful pace lulled her to sleep before she even reached the bed. He set her soft head of curls onto the red velvet pillow. "My angel," he murmured softly, tracing her cheek with an agonizing slowness. "You alone can make my song take flight." He left her to pour his anguish into the organ; into the night.


End file.
